Nothing
by whispered touches
Summary: Nothing - nothing between her and Fred, nothing between her and any other bloke, nothing keeping her from kissing him, nothing keeping her from being with him. She opened her eyes and saw George. Just George. Fred/Angelina, George/Angelina. One-shot.


When Angelina looked at Fred, she saw George.

It wasn't like it was odd. They were twins, after all, exactly the same. They shared everything – grins, hair, eye colors, laughs. Most people saw them as one person in two bodies with no differences between them.

But Angelina knew better. She knew that one of George's front teeth was just _barely_ chipped from the time Fred had swung a Beater's bat the wrong way; that Fred had a scar on his scalp from the time he had nearly split his skull in two by falling, head-first, from the roof of his house; knew that George's eyes were barely half a shade darker brown than Fred's, and that he smelled like citrus, although his lips tasted like especially sweet chocolate, when Fred –

"No," she told her reflection sternly. "Stop comparing them."

Because it seemed she always did.

Angelina sighed, teasing her curls a bit more in the mirror. She was the last in the sixth year girls' dormitory, and she knew she had better head out before she was seriously late.

She took a deep breath, stood, and left.

~o~

Fred was waiting for her when she got to the common room. Rocking on his heels and whistling idly, he didn't look too jittery; when he saw her, he stopped in an instant and turned to staring. By the time she reached him, he had regained himself.

"You look amazing," he said, offering an arm, which Angelina took.

She smirked a little. "You don't clean up too badly yourself."

And he didn't. His dress robes weren't so shabby that they stuck out, his hair looked less not-combed than usual – there was an air about him that wasn't as mischievous as usual. Something about that left a part of her disappointed.

Fred grinned. "Why thank you, m'lady," he said, and kissed her cheek. As she hoped desperately her face wasn't as hot as it felt, he led the way out of the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall, where the Yule Ball would be taking place. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

~o~

The music pounded along with her heart, and almost as loud, roaring in her ears and blocking out all other sounds, thoughts and feelings. Fred twirled her about with shocking expertise, as though the Weird Sisters song was some sort of tango instead of something meant for reckless teenage antics. Still, Angelina couldn't help laughing at the look of concentration on his face, along with the odd glances others were sending their way.

"Fred," she choked, gasping for air. And then again, "F-Fred – stop – I c-can't –"

And he stopped immediately, stepping closer to her. Other moving bodies pressed in all around them, of this, she was very conscious. She could almost taste his breaths, hot and fast and a bit like cinnamon.

"Breathe?" he suggested quietly. Without a word, she nodded. "I know." Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "Me too."

Hardly realizing what was going to ensue if things went on, Angelina felt her eyes flutter shut. Fred pressed his forehead against hers, and some part of her was struggling, kicking, flailing, telling her, _No, don't do it, it isn't right, it wasn't supposed to happen again_, and she tried with all her might to listen to it, but he was _right there_, and –

"Can I cut in?"

It was George. He should have had to shout over the volume of the music – but then Angelina noticed that the loud tune that she and Fred had been dancing to was over, and had been replaced by something much slower. Couples were drawing together, girls' hands locked around the boys' necks as the latter pulled them close; others, going just as friends, flitted off the dance floor immediately to avoid anything awkward.

Fred smiled graciously, stepping away from her like nothing out of the ordinary had just been about to occur; like he hadn't been just seconds away from _kissing her_. "Of course, brother mine." He bent over in a low bow, brushed his lips against Angelina's hand, but this time, with George already right next to her, she didn't shiver. "It was a pleasure." And as he swept away, he threw a wink over his shoulder, though at her or at George, she didn't know.

George took the hand Fred had just kissed, put the other on her waist, and she draped her free one lazily over one of his shoulders, completely natural.

"So, Angie," he said casually, beginning to rotate them in a slow circle; the spark that usually made her nervous was in his eye, "just what was going on between you and my dear twin?" He sounded amused and – could it be? – slightly jealous.

Angelina blushed and cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze. "Nothing," she said firmly, trying to convince herself that she only felt that way because they looked exactly alike more than telling George. "Nothing at all."

"If you say so…" He was doing a poor job at hiding his relief.

She sighed a little, and with a tiny whisper of a smile, she released her hand from his grip and entwined her fingers at the nape of his neck. Something in his face changed, just barely, and he put his other arm around her and pulled her close. She breathed in his scent, so sour but so sweet at the same time, with a kick to it you never saw coming: exactly like him. Intoxicated, her head somehow found its way to his chest.

"I say so."

She could hear his heart racing, pounding erratically loud – and she could have sworn it was beating right alongside hers.

Angelina felt him take a deep breath, and she looked up, right into his eyes. Nothing else existed; no one was dancing around them, stealing the spotlight; no music was playing; he had no twin to confuse her feelings with. It was just the two of them.

For the second time that night, she let her eyes slide closed and leaned in – but just before their lips touched, George hesitated, and she just _knew_ he was looking at her.

"You're sure there's nothing?"

Nothing – nothing between her and Fred, nothing between her and any other bloke, nothing keeping her from kissing him, nothing keeping her from being with _him_.

She opened her eyes and saw George.

Just George.

And she couldn't wait any longer to have Just George all to herself – with Fred-Looks-Like-George out of the picture.

"Positive," she breathed.

And then she kissed him.

* * *

_A/N: I am on a ROLL! Who's feeling totally awesome? I am! Now that that's out of my system, this is for The Weekly Song Challenge - this week's is Falling For You by Colbie Calliat. I'll probably end up doing others, so be on the lookout! ;D_

___Fanfictioners Against Hunger is where you donate rice through freerice . com for fics that you like. In other words, if you like this drabble, either donate some rice - I'll answer the questions myself, or you can do it - or contact Gryffindor777 for more information._

_No favoriting without reviewing, please! I'd like to know WHY you faved. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_~whispered touches_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, or anything else you might recognize mentioned in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling and her affiliates. No copyright infringement is intended._


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